I'll Stop The Rain
by Serp
Summary: When Riza's father died, Roy had held her until the tears stopped. Now here she was, sitting on the front steps of Eastern HQ with a cold cup of coffee rested in her shaking hands, wondering how on earth he'd ever had the strength to pull her through it. / Riza struggles with her own fears after Hughes' death. Royai-ish.


When her father had died, Roy had held her until the tears stopped. She'd felt numb, bereft of hope, and he was the only person she had to cling to as she lay drowning in a changing tide, carried away with no control, no idea as to where she'd end up or what would happen after. He'd been the one to tell her that everything would be ok, and his voice had been so soft and soothing that it reminded her of a home she'd never had. Now here she was, sitting on the front steps of Eastern HQ with a cold cup of coffee rested in her shaking hands, wondering how on earth he'd ever had the strength to pull her through it.

Riza rubbed at her forehead and sipped the coffee like it was illicit liquor, though the bitter taste barely registered and the lump in her throat was making it difficult to swallow. She felt as though someone had taken a black marker and had drawn a line through her life at five fifteen that afternoon – the two halves of the day practically universes apart: one half a mountain, the peak veiled in cloud; the other a yawning chasm, with no way of telling how far down she would fall.

"Hey."

Riza brushed her fringe out of her face as Heymans Breda came to stand beside her, hands in the pockets of his black trench coat. She could see that the mood was taking a toll on him too, not just by how tired he looked; he seemed far more subdued than usual, and he was fiddling with his dad's old signet ring the way he always did when he was nervous.

"You okay?" he asked eventually.

Riza shrugged and offered him a sad, apologetic smile, unable to hide from him. "I've been better."

Breda nodded, gazing out at the passersby who were so blissfully unaware of the shock and upset that was sweeping through every rank of the military at that moment. Then he heaved a sigh and sat down on the step beside her, watching her lip quiver and her eyes fill with tears. She looked up when his hand landed on her shoulder.

"He'll be alright, Riza," he said earnestly. "Not overnight, probably not for a long time. But he'll get there eventually."  
"Yeah, I know." But even so his words didn't give her much confidence. Riza lowered her head. "It's just... I'm so _scared_, Breda." She whispered the word as if it were a taboo, turning pale just thinking about it. "I'm so terrified I can barely think straight. I have no idea what to do, or what to say to him... There's no way to fix this."

Her gut twisted. She felt sick, her throat was sore, and though she wiped at her wet eyes with a sleeve they filled back up again almost instantly. Mustang had more demons on his shoulders than anyone, and he needed to know she had his back, but she was too busy wallowing in her own self-pity to care, too held back by fear to help.

She looked down at her feet and caught sight of a cigarette butt wedged in the corner. One of Havoc's, perhaps... She'd have given anything to go back into the office to find the Colonel berating him for smoking again. But that wasn't going to happen any time soon, not whilst Roy Mustang was drowning. Somehow, she had to save him.

"I have to keep moving forward," Riza whispered to herself.

Breda glanced at her. "What was that?"  
"Something Edward said once. Keep moving forward."  
"Smart kid."  
Gritting her teeth, Riza pushed herself to her feet. She felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, ready to force her back down at any moment, but she was strong enough to withstand it. She had to be.

Riza Hawkeye gazed up at the grey, overcast sky, and realized that her tears had stopped; her face was dry. But then a water droplet landed on her cheek, on her chin, on her forehead, her eyelid, her nose, and soon she stood, eyes closed, listening only to the unceasing static of the rain.

Breda rose and made off up towards the gate, his coat held over his head. "Come on, Riza. We'd better get back inside. This storm's probably gonna last a while."

"Yeah," she said, turning to follow him, suddenly no longer feeling quite so useless. "It looks like it."


End file.
